Reflections
by Daisythecannibal
Summary: Clarice and Hannibal reflect on their lives... Hannibal's POV now up!
1. Clarice

None of these characters belong to me; they are the proporty of Thomas Harris

Please review and tell me what you think, it's my first fanfiction...

**Reflections **

**Clarice**

From the time I was a little girl I had known what I wanted to be. I wanted to be the "hero". The one who got the "bad guys"- just like my daddy.

Then he was killed on the job.

For some this would make them realize the dangers- turn them off from the job- but not me. It compelled me to continue on with my future as I had planned it. But unlike my father, the night watchman of a small town, I would be above the small town police force. I would be above a state force. I would be part of the federal force, the FBI.

The acronym rolled off my tongue before I was fully able to comprehend what they stood for. As I grew older the Federal Bureau of Investigation became my obsession; I found out everything I could, I read books, collected articles- anything I could get my hands on I got and committed to memory. Perhaps my dream of succeeding and advancement are what paved my work ethic, something I retained despite the hard times I went through.

If only I had known ahead of time the pain and suffering that would come from such a place. If only I had foreseen it, the restless nights I could have prevented. If only.

If only.

There is no purpose to dwelling on the past, no matter how hard I try the pieces will not reconfigure themselves to how they should be. I was supposed to be protecting the innocent- the lambs, but that's not how they see it. It's just some job to them, nothing more, and nothing less, just a job. Our inability to see eye to eye on this matter was the main cause of my rejection- and ultimately my downfall.

Perhaps it was the memories of my father dying or of that night on the ranch, whatever it was my desire to protect others was beyond that of any of my colleagues and that caused a great rift between us making it impossible for us to function as the team we should have been.

My life has been filled with tragedy, more than most people can even begin to imagine. My father's death started the steady decline of my life. Following that my mother worked at a motel to support us. But that is no life for a ten-year old- watching your mother be forced to clean up after the visitors. The people who would leave their used condoms on the bedside table.

That's no life for a ten year old to be exposed to.

So I got to go to Montana. It's not that Montana was bad, there were many animals- including my own horse, Hannah. I should have known the purpose of the farm from the second I saw the "Humane Horse Killer", but no. Something didn't quite register. Until that night. Kind of hard to miss the fact that it was a slaughter farm when you get woken up to the sound of screaming.

I was once asked what my worst memory of childhood was. Without a thought I replied with the death of my father. It wasn't until much later on that I finally accepted that although that was truly devastating- it was not the single most traumatic memory in my past. The night I ran away from the ranch, hearing the cries of the lambs. The innocent, the little children. From that point on I knew it was my purpose to protect the innocent.

No matter what he may say to my face, I know he agrees.


	2. Hannibal

I do not own any of these characters; they are all property of Thomas Harris

Reflections: Hannibal

Being alone for too long does things to you.

I've been alone basically all of my life. I have more memories of time spent isolated from everyone than I do of spending time with people who care about me.

I was six.

Six years old when the last person who ever truly cared about me left me.

Granted she didn't have a choice. She was taken away "to play".

She never came back. I knew she wouldn't. No one who went "to play" ever came back. I had just hoped for once it would be different. It wasn't. Nothing in my life ever went the way it should have. I prayed that this time would be different.

It wasn't.

That year had been a difficult one: the war, the death of my parents, Mischa.

To loose one parent at an early age is difficult, but loosing both to a cause that they had no involvement in; at the tender age of six, is just unbearable. Suddenly, I was thrown into adulthood- at six! It was my responsibility to make sure my younger sister remained safe and out of harms way.

I failed.

The people were ruthless. They didn't care who they hurt or whose life was altered by their actions.

If only they had known what they had created.

I had seen them torture a deer to death for fear of shooting it and ruining the little meat on its scrawny body. I watched through the crack in the barn, I was sickened by the disgusting display of power they were exerting over this young innocent deer; it made me sick.

That was one of the last times I ever felt even a slight bit of remorse for a living creature.

Then the meat ran out and they took Mischa. My younger sister. My innocent little sister. It pained me to imagine what they were doing to her. Probably prolonging her death to prevent from loosing too much blood or wasting any meat by shooting her. At least the latter would have been quick.

I couldn't get the visions of the deer and my loving sister with her whole life in front of her out of my mind. The thoughts of those men eating her, in order to keep themselves alive. The pain they had put her and who knows how many others through.

_That _was the last time I have felt pain or remorse for anyone or anything.

If only those men knew what they had done, whom they had created.

My only thought was to get revenge on them, make them regret the day they ever set their eyes on my sister.

The day never came. I was only six. All I could do was imagine, at that time…

My life became a movie playing in front of my eyes. Whether or not I was in control I do not know, or honestly really care. I was doing public services, getting my revenge. I knew I would never be able to stop, because I never would be able to get my revenge on the people I despised most in this world; the men who cannibalized my sister.

Then, to make a long story short, that moron, for lack of a better word, Will Graham caught me. Now he thinks he smarter than me. I'll never be able to forget it. When I wake up in my cell and look around at the charming, picturesque view of walls, walls, and more walls I think of him. Think of how I let my guard down for once second and he comes in and takes me for all I'm worth.

And he thinks he's smarter than me. The moron. I hate being rude and using the common not-very-creative insults, but that's the only way to describe Special Agent Will Graham.

You would think he leave me alone in peace, but no. He has to come and rub it in my face that he caught me that he is superior to me by standing outside my cell, looking in at me and the "petty torments" Dr. Chilton likes to use. Dr. Chilton. Some people think that _I_ am something like the devil or something to that nature- they have _obviously_ not met Dr. Chilton, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Will Graham, that is one name that just cannot be said without thinking of something childish- like a graham cracker. Sometimes I surprise my self at just how unintelligent I can sound when I am left alone for so long and all because of one person… I must regain my mind frame…

Will Graham he thinks he's smarter than me. He wants to rub it in my face any chance he gets, so when he gets even a small challenge he comes bawling to me like the little baby he is. He pretends to be interested in what I have to say, but in reality he already knew it. He comes to see me just so he can see his "prize" behind bars.

I think it excites him. I really wouldn't put it past him.

But I almost got the last laugh. Pity Dolarhyde didn't finish him off. But I do think he succeeded in ruining Special Agent Graham-cracker's life. Perhaps that was worse or should I say better.

Excuse me while I have a moment of silence for the late Francis Dolarhyde followed by an hour of laughter at Graham's expense.

Back to that other hateful tangent I had gotten lost on earlier.

Dr. Fredrick Chilton. Living proof that _anyone _can become a doctor these days…

He is the embodiment of evil. He is the devil disguised as a man (well not quite a man…) yet again I got the last laugh when I paid a little visit to my "old friend". Pity I didn't get his reaction on film when I revealed my identity to him that night; it truly was priceless. Never in my life have I seen someone so confused, frightened, and helpless all at the same time.

It was amazing.

What a perfect end to that chapter of my life.


End file.
